Everything cycles and so too do I
I watch it comes and go and
see it come and again and again
in and out of the spots like a ball bouncing across an endless plan upppp
and down watching it soaring
seeing its impacted selfish practicality
gravity defining everything
rules preset rebounding
and the soul watched the cliff and itself from a distance but felt it
wind pounding

tangled in the masses of a vine
this is where you go
powerless
although
choice here
ring the bell for salvation
soundless until it decides too late
to cooperate
watching time the enemy take control
this sqaure once could fit
but like clay its been remolded and set
Water!
stubborn boulder
oh that i could hold you in my hands and take you in my heart
and we could startttttt(hold the t, don't let go)
everything slowssssss

and now the ball is rebounding in some poor head
trapppedddd
oh dread!
how often have you come to haunt me?
made made made
is it you or me?

Body why won't you listen?
Two parts
duality always
and that fractured hope that perhaps
oh just maybe
if i can pull that way
and pry that way
but no
reflections always
we live together in this house
we are the house
we are the lights
I want to taste this
but the doors are sealed and the water receding
they are at the door and they are asking for money
and they're pounding away
and its sealed
doing no good
If they starve him out
will the glue come undone?
or is there just one
more
second passing
in cycle

moving on to higher things
or levels
and layers
that dissolve as they pry the crowbar across my heart

sugar coated

Take me with you so I can be cherry sweet
soaked in sugar the words surely then would meet
the candle burns down slow low, stubborn flame will not die
the wax river runs off the page unto my thigh

Pushing pens into my skin so they can redeem the nights
starry shivering, its not a question, turn off the lights
searching for the rouge thought you unpeel fractured hue
this wasn't for you it's just how it happened

show me to know me
I repeat
show me to know me
know me its just how it happened
show me to know me
know me its not for you
know me to show me how this happened

Its become so clear to me that I was chasing the horizon
Never any closer, closer is getting tired
(but you didn't understand when I said that)
and throwing pebbles at massive machines
I've said it once, you're still a liar and its not to fault me for the genes

This wasn't for you it's just how it happened.

"in the morning I'll be with you,
but it will be a different kind,
I'll be holding all the tickets
and you'll be holding all the fines."

ever in need

I want to run outside in the sun
nakedddddd
freezzzzzing
I want to know that in creatttttinnnngggg snow angels
they will perish
but that that infinite mommmmennntttt
stays gollldeeeeennnn
forever it remains in a memory that I can taint
succulent
gulping red empiresss smelling sweet satireeeee
running down my throat myself engulfed in sweet fruit
comparing myself to the tart freedom rising up to meet my throat
feeling sensing knowing
throwing away the sad condolences of a fruitless day
tasting here that won't go away
taiming kingdoms reluctant to make a way
from there
to now
I wannttttttttt this
"you cant have it"
AND WHY
do I torment myself to be put upon a shelf
in the minds own I
I ammmm hereeeee
look at what I have made for you
look at what I am
turning blue
like i always doooo
Reflection
meets deceptionnnnn
The little girl was right when she said mirrors lie to her
self condoning self
correction self
IMAGE
never the same
ever in need

Snow day

I'm not really in the mood to be writing but I heard a poet talking about writing and how you should do it even when you don't feel like it and I don't know what else to be doing(i could be doing a lot). Even though this isn't really the type of writing i count as valuable, this is just journaling thoughts I'm still gonna do it.
When Automm calls all we talk about (well not all, really, but it always comes to mind) is that the group I am in has fallen apart. In fact I've had that conversation with so many people. We've all got such strong personalities.
Enough.

I dreamed last night that I was an immortal and for a few seconds I was flying. Sigh. And a hurricane came and it hurt me but I persevered because I was immortal and then I thought: "I'm stronger than a hurricane but weaker than a mouse." It was a good dream. I've been having so many good dreams I can only half remember and I know they are interesting because I see little flashes of them that are wonderful but I can only remember split seconds. I should work on that.

My mother took me out shopping yesterday for christmas gifts and I got a few things at Habitat because I don't want to support any other store. But then we went to Ruby Tuesdays and I ordered something. We sat in somewhat silence, and I think I'm beginning to blame myself for the lack of good conversations in my life, it hurts to. It helps to make it seem less terrible, being in control. (although time has proved that when in control I screw myself over. I feel ever responsible for keeping myself above water, and for losing my strength in the days that have past)

Right now I'm waiting for meg and erin to come and they are 45 minutes late. Everyones always late to everything involving me, which I guess is cool cause I'm always late to school, but not really to other peoples things and I guess there are things that are more important than me, I just really hate waiting. If I start anything its bound to get disrupted, I hate being untimely displaced from things, If I'm not ready to set down that book and I have to it ruins the entire mood of everything and I'm all about moods, although according to some psychology the people most aware of their moods are the most neurotic, which fits me and is unfortunate but I call it being alive, even if there are some people I know who seem so much more alive, that is to say involved and that is to say that I am jealous of them but there won't likely be anything I'll be doing about it.

Note: I miss hanging out with boys. Not the boys of last winter but just REAL boys. I want to rough house and do silly things.

Note: I want to talk more to more people and my own lack of words bothers me

"You need contact daily or conscious is failing."

Certain people I put my hope in fail me, but I think it might be my expectations or lack of ability for delivery on my part.
........self indulgent, self indulgent, self indulgent
its still something I've noticed

"its more they're standing in ponds when they could be gods of the sea"

I don't want reason, I want humanity

The idea sparks, glitters, but goes away for the moment, still nurtured, still tormenting me to become a reality, but who will allow?
I'm still looking, but soon I fear I may give up.

Your eyes look sunken in, its what makes you different, its your breed, and so we go together, you and I; but I will never touch you.

Sometimes I get so caught up in understanding what I'm hearing I don't listen.

The world of speaking truth lies to me. I can never be a part of the life I've seen can be.

hmididdlydo

Well now that I'm in a good mood I should probably record it. Ha. Haha. Indoor Drumline is such a good release, I'm glad I joined the pit and I hope they don't put me back on cymbals. Please god, please god please god. Thing I've noticed; sometimes the more we practice the more I steadily get worse. Makes sense, won't explain.
I think for me its more I have plans of getting out of my situation, but I don't think them through. I just expect the world to be there for me catching on to me. I won't chastise myself for not realizing it when I'm doing it, but I just dream much too high. Applying effort in places that don't make a difference. They matter to me god damnit.

I have to go on believing in me there is beauty because if I don't there is no one to reaffirm me, but thats okay. Look in the mirror, tell your soul its beautiful and you care. Repeat three times every day. Working out would offer a solution to my moods. Make your insides feel better. Apply effort! I'm so stubborn. I can't figure it out.

so it seems I'm constantly planning my escape from on spot or another. Run! Run with me! Maybe someday I'll learn. I'm surprisingly content in my unhappiness most of the time though. Or is it fear that holds me back?

I don't know. Its freeing really, in a way. And its not in another, but if i focus on all the bad it won't help. I've learned it doesn't help, haven't learned how not to though. Thats okay.

Don't know where to go

I should be writing. Its the only thing to do with these moods. Its not depressed. I'm melodramatic. Its not even a tragic mood, well not to be.
I want to see passion. I feel like I don't own any, I'm too lazy too. I feel like I suffocate without it, unfulfilled, so unfulfilled.
I shouldn't show these moods off.
It comes and goes so sudden, here it is, there it was.
On.
Off.
I don't know how to express myself anymore. I'm excited for a change of scenery.
My heart is set on Bloomsburg, if I don't get in I don't know what I'll do. Be upset mostly I guess. I'm freakkingggg outtt. Thats an overstatement.
I'm coming to feel how ideas really are not something to stand upon so firmly. I jump ship a lot in hopes for something better.
Hope the driving force?
Label label. Confine. Life.
I want to commune with other people.

I dream and dream and commit to living in my ideals but not experiencing them. disillusionment again. Its just my cycle. Round and Round. I'm self destructive when alone but I crave it.

Why why why?

Oh but what was I expecting from this place?

i shouldn't feed this thoughts. I don't know what to do with them, I don't know where to go.

i hate having to search for things. It stops me from doing a lot of things.I don't know if fear is the root of laziness. No one has a good enough answer to that question, and sometimes i see glimpses of an explanation that helps me see its not. I think ideas are very confusing, i normally just go with them when its an inward idea and don't stop to think of the repercussions or logic of the situation. I really am not a huge fan of logic. I also don't think all good thinkers are good mathematicians and I can barely explain why. Sometimes I throw out meaning on the random happenings of life and force myself to feel enlightened. I think that means I'm not. But I also think I had a lot of pseudo potential that I will never follow through with because thats who I am.
I bite my bottom lip a lot now, its a learned behavior, because I like when other people do it to me, it almost seems like a compliment to do to other people. Reading reading into things.
I force myself onto things, my wants. I'm so not lighthearted. I'd like to call it serious but that might connotate dedicated and I'm not sure that would send out the right message. I could be writing something better than this.
There I go again putting my veil of opinion on everything. Faulty faulty opinion. I'm not sure what to do with myself. I've been rather bored as of late, which when I'm in periods of not being bored I get a little proud that I don't get bored, but right now I don't know how to be sane and interested at the same time so I'm just going to be bored and try not to move things around so much because I'm in a spot that is more comfortable than where I've been even though I feel lonely and I shouldn't blame other people. Its just kind of insulting to be so lonely. People have such cool little tweaks in their personality that aren't normals and don't really make sense until you think about them and then you just get confused and I think thats on of my favorite parts of people.
Stop accusing me, I'm just trying to follow the instructions that have been given to me. Maybe you don't understand, and I know I don't really either. This world would be easier if we just tried to give each other breaks. Constantly searching for refirmation, no one really caring to show it, or seeing it to show it. This musings mean nothing, remember remember.
So egotistical. This this is how we operate.
You can pick a thousand holes in what I think but what is gonna change?

but you wont

there must be sometime wrong with me because it means nothing without the words

so you can hear me, i will make translation, but now you can't. Can't listen.

I'm playing with my self, my emotions, selfishly bringing an experience briefly in exchange for a rock to stand upon. Is it worth it? When will it stop?

diagnosing things that don't need to be problems.
pounded pounded by a constant influx, fighting to sift through the reason for truth

trying, trying too hard to let something out. When will it begin?

Spontaneous thoughts of the day 11/27

and tv teaches you how to think, in some sick way

because in the silence you can pretend

we are at war with the confusion induced by what we have learned

this is me thinking i am not enough

Scum.

I have not been attending to this poor blog as I used to. Poor poor blog. Not that it had feelings. Itd be nice if it did. My thoughts are all a jumble. Daily I think a hundred thoughts I want to write down but when given the resources I supply nothing of value.
My mom is getting depressed again. She wants to give away the cat. I'm starting to feel like a hypochondriac. Slightly. I'd never let myself go that far. Mostly I just want to not have responsibility. I don't act on it. And sometimes I have this dream that I can hold everything together and be everyone else's rock,but I can barely sustain myself. In conversation daily when it isn't one on one I loathe the abuse words take. I find teachers more fascinating that these people and their triteness and their fear.
I feel bad for my dogs, my mother pays them no attention now. She hasn't seemed to have washed in a few days. I feel sorry for my father. We make fun of her when she's like this. She's got a heavy load, all to herself in her dreaming of a god who will save her. Broken hope never sits well. I can attest to that.

I just want someone to be here with me. I think I do at least.

It will pass. if i would just meditate things would feel better.
Look what we do to ourselves. I'm not depressed. I'm actually mainly better than I have been in a while.

this face.

she was just standing there and there were people all around. they just sort of ignored her, she was staring at everyone else because no one really minded, no one really noticed. It was kind of odd and there was a lot of things to notice, but none of them reminded her of what she wanted to reminded of. Its kind of lonely, feeling so unconnected to things, she thought, in not quite so blunt a sentence. Someone had a pretty face, but she could tell the other girl was faking her smile, and the lips were off. She wished things were as easy as being able to see someones personality in their face, and even though science said that it wasn't possible people do it all the time. Sometimes the most beautiful faces aren't those that are aesthetically pleasing, they just have this feel about them and you sense this thought and while you stare its just awe.

Its all the same?

My fingers trace the keys but there is little left to bring out. Ring around the G move to the H. I'm getting nowhere. There was suppose to be something I could show you, but you aren't even looking. Why should you?
I cross my fingers and hope he'll be alright. It must be hard, being him. I could never love him, but I know he needs it, know he deserves it. Not that deserving is part of the situation. Not that it ever is.
I watched her fall apart and couldn't follow. They say never say sorry. I hope the pain wasn't too much.
I heard hints of notes behind a wall, begging to be given breath. May I then be oxygen, I never could.
I make intros to promises I'll never mean, but thats all thats said. Don't get carried away my dear, I shouldn't have called you that.
I fall in love with the world. And then the typical enters. How predictable.

I couldn't laugh along at that, don't make me. Unless I cave into agreeing with you, in allowing myself to breed with you. Ideas pour out the cup of ignorance and only dehydrate me.
I'm so thirsty.
And some how I'm becoming more comfortable in who I am. Even if maybe I'm not comfortable in being that person around you. I will be anyway. And you might judge me. And I'm sensitive and and the carrier of ideals. Thats all I am. Don't make me trade my stability for what I want. I will. Will not. Will i?
Don't expect me to want that, you hazard. Not that you're capable of wanting.

Steal from the baker, he's got enough to go around. Until no more burns the furnace. The fire's running low. You get something from giving up something, you get you give, you give you get. Right?
My livelihood has run out the door with the spoon. And the cow is jumping into oblivion, they've milked her dry. Poured out the dears hope. Oh me. Oh my.

And still we persist on till the day, that day. So much meaning in the unpredictable. Convince myself I know the way, and then I don't. So many false maps of where to go. Did I hear that I should worry about the destination? Until it comes I will pin it. And then when I'm over here and expectant, something comes and crushes me and I splatter and the truth is over there where I may not be because I'm stuck by something. And now I'm being scattered. and then I was somewhere else.
Its a completely different picture. Its all the same.

More Whiney Originals

(f) if you think its who we are
(am) to watch ourselves slowly starve
(c) directly cause by not taking part
(c/b) in what we say is better

(f) if you don't think you're causing harm
(am) with sharpened fingers pushing hard
(c)because you know inside our heart
(c/b) and you know what's better

(g)maybe someone'll save (c) me
(g) but for now I'm left here (em) hoping
and for now I'm left choking
(g) maybe when we look inside (am) ourselves we
wont see all this (c) matters

(F) so for now I look to the sky
(am) and try not to ask why
(c) this isn't working out for me
(c/b) nothing seems better

(f)they never said how perceoption
(am) works its way into your head
(c) and how sometimes you'd rather be dead
(c/b) then let go of falling


(g)maybe someone'll save (c) me
(g) but for now I'm left here (em) hoping
and for now I'm left choking
(g) maybe when we look inside (am) ourselves we
wont see all this (c) matters

Blabber

Mood: restless, caged in my own thoughts with no outlet, tired, in need of something, can't put my finger on it.
I've been writing in things that are not this blog often, out of sight. Which is nice for the main part, but my main purpose right now is to be seen and create something.
So if I am not a writer than, so be it, I feel like I'm wasting potential right now.

I do not want to grow up like my mother, which is to say I don't want a disease that makes me bed ridden for the most part.
I do not want to ever be completely isolated, thats one of my fears right now, growing up to be alone. I don't know what I am going to do when I have to move out of the house. I'm quite sure I'm rather dependent on my parents.

Funny how you trade dependence from one thing to another and we call it freedom.
I have an obsession with freedom. Not sure how thats going to work out because there is no total freedom, not that I can see. Freedom to adhere to genetics and behavioral teachings. I like the work adhere. Its a nice one.

I love the song Private Universe. Its by Crowded House.

So I finally found what I wanted in music today, and you know what, I was uncomfortable in it, to some degree, i wanted more soothing music, but now I know where to go when in that state.

I watched so many movies yesterday. And now I can't stand anymore, except that I want to watch Up or 500 days of Summer with someone. But not alone.
I don't even really want to go to school, I don't get fulfillment there a lot. People all have there constraints; I have no room to complain.

list of songs I really like at the moment
Private Universe, Crowded House
I am Trying to Break your Heart, Wilco
Oh, Comely, Neutral Milk Hotel
Ahh, Men, Say Anything

Copying people is a weird topic, I've got nothing of value to contribute to that yet. Later I think I will, and maybe it'll be interesting and slight right, but I never am fully. I don't care that I'm hard to understand sometimes. Sometimes. Well mainly, actually.

I feel better.

Wants.

Its days like this that I wish I had a boyfriend. Someone to come over when I'm sick, tell me about what I've missed and watch movies with me because I'm too ill to think properly, and someone to hold me without fearing they'll catch my disease.
I want to curl up on the couch and listen to someone play music.
I want to show them all my silly musings I've done on the guitar and them let it slide that my stuff isn't amazing. Its not supposed to be, its just honest emotionally. Thats all.
I want countless cups of honey lemon water and creamy soup even though its not good for sore throats.
I want things to happen without me forcing them. I want to express with someone.
I had a thought that felt like it was very spot on but I can't remember it.
I've been having a lot of those recently.
I want to go on walks in the woods with people and have in depth conversations about life and trails and i don't know what else.
I don't want to be alone. I don't want these walls.
I want life.

Stuff.

list of movies to watch.
Before Sunrise
Adaption
The Life Aquatic
The Science of Sleep
Igby Goes Down
The Squid and The Whale
The Rules of Attraction
the Darleejin Unlimited

I think thats enough for now.

movies I love
I Heart Huckabees
Waking Life
Being John Malkovich
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
The Outsiders

Books to read
The Crucible
Sister Carrie
Their Eyes Were Watching God
Zen Wrapped in Karma Dipped in Chocolate

Books I Love
The Dharma Bums
The Awakening
Mrs. Dalloway
The Scarlet Letter
Glass Menagerie

so i don't know me anymore
lost inside my own convictions
healing's just another affliction
and why should I, so why should i, even try?
so i don't know me anymore.

everybody wants it to mean something to them
I will be your kite, I'll fly you high into the wind right by them
and then we'll crash and fall
bumps and bruises aren't funny
so i don't know me anymore

stuck to the ground

You say you're doing what you wanna
I say
You're nothing but a coin glued to the ground
like the tricksters try to play you
And the faces float by real solemn,
thinking they're gonna pull away
but they never do
stuck they're gonna stay
like plaster, like plastic

And today is so the first day of you're life
you 're throwing away all the mundane
All it mundane its so monotonous
You're flying away so peaceful like a feather
no bird to tell you where to go or how to think
So unattached its what you what
so free, so scary

Croaking Toads

I don't know where I am going with this. Not at all, not one bit. I shall not talk about it, I shall not talk about it. I want something, i want it, i want it. I want it! give me it, or the sea shall boil over and we all may drown. By we i mean me and I should stop being so selfish. I still think convenience is a bad thing in some way. Not in every way. The way i think can only lead to contradictions. Is it me or language? (I want it, I want it, I want it) Circles, I'm spinning webs and circles and I can not accept anything. Everything is magnified. I stand still a child.
Take me back to a beginning! I'd be content if I didn't know, If only.
Crying beside a wracked ship, pooling in with the devoted creatures carrying the house to safety. Who are these creatures and why should they care.
I care, if you only would feel so to!
Hell and damnation with all of this.
I want it.
May I then not bury the fragile rose with my shovel contamination. I created a flower with a snake as a stem.
I always do this!
HELP me!
I am trapped by myself, for myself and of myself.
(We are all our on little galaxies)
Listen to the harp weaving in and out of a point on melody. Descriptive, so true. Applaud my dears! If they do not feel appreciated they will go away.
If I feel needed I fall away.
Into the weakened bow. Shimmering. Simmering. Foam around me, spirals abound over me. they are worth it if i say they are.
Preach Preach Preach Preach
Croak as hoarse a toad.
I'd be a prince if only......

Hearts spilling over.

If i had a song, what would it sound like? I'd predict shrill, nervous, bursting, multi toned, repetitive, with some amazingly sweet, lingering strong, free melodies. It would be timid and broken and it would try to hard, but something would ring out so strong, almost hidden, longing to come forward in the composition.
Sometimes I wished I played piano, or guitar, mostly cello. I love the cello, I love the violin, I don't have the money to learn. My parents never forced me to stick with instruments, I never had the resolve. Sometimes I remember the life i once had, and how did I get here? I feel like I should be exiled, I feel guilty for being human, for being so weak. For not being able to show the good in me, if good is there. I am ashamed of what I have to show the world. I am cowering in my perceived filth and I don't trust anyone to think well of me, but I think they should because I'm contradictory and I stay obvious in my flaws because I feel like if people see how low I am they won't want to bring me further down because I am sensitive and I care and I am irrational.
And all of this is just theory.
I barely have hope. Something in me just can't beat this off. I feel so broken and useless.
So where was childish brevity when I needed it? When did the strength of maturity come to meet this loss in faith? Will it ever? Nothing's perfect, I know that. I just wish I could look into the face of a stranger without feeling afraid. And not fear fumbling from image to image. Because it's useless and irrational and I am so too. Because its a part of me I just want to strangle, rip out, bloody, crucify, tear the veins out of. I just want to be whole again.

This is just all in the background. I've been relatively happier, though I can't stop from tripping on the rags of a memory, letting it become the present from time to time.

derm de dim.

I want to sit down and write out lyrics so I don't have to deal with the stress of trying to create something out of me. Maybe angels and airwaves. A few minutes ago I was confused. For a second I thought Angels and Airwaves has too much of an immature voice to listen to and like, for me at this stage of my life when I don't want anything to do with the naivety that encircles a considerable amount of my moods. But then I thought maybe that the whiny voice I was hearing actually wasn't that immature, maybe its just, well smart enough to not be completely aged. Or maybe I'm thinking a lot about the concepts and don't grasp them at all. Anyway, the thought made me appreciate the music more, even if I can't really recount the actual thought, as what I just wrote wasn't exactly my thought process, just a flimsier copy of it, strengthened by being put down in word I can read again, less accurate because my depictions of my thoughts are not actually my bare thoughts. I feel like my silver stranded, cloudy liquid funnel thought process is not the norm. So maybe you don't understand what I mean, I'll never tell.
Never is a strong, passionate word people say too often without honor or fear. Fear of being wrong, its slightly irrational. I'm slightly irrational, as is most of what I do, but in a world like this it seems that irrationality is the only logical thing to do. From where I sit, with what I've been given, with my definition of irrationality and logic. Which is not your defintion, which is why I have such a hard time understanding everything, because I'm only want person and I'm idealistic and self indulgent and masochistic.
I still sometimes fall apart, visually, in front of people. They mostly don't know whats going on with me, not that I know whats going on with me. Again and again its a loop I'm seething in.
My dog has anxiety issues with new people, I worry that I've rubbed off on her. My reasoning goes between being understandable to any one who could peer into my thoughts and sometimes touched outlandish. Sometimes I just feel you never can be sure, but being so open does lead to psychosis, according to a personality theory, which seems highly accurate.
I wish I had something thoughtful to leave you with. oh vwell.

Maybe

How do you even begin to explain this? Where will my words mislead you today? Its not like I mean to make people think things about me that aren't true, not consciously. Maybe they can see it. What is true anyway? There we go again. There I go again just questioning the foundations of the statement. Is it healthy? I don't know. I'm finding my way back to stability, I'm sure there are some people that think I'm absolutely insane. Mostly people in my English class. Like the kid who studied me for ten minutes to write a story about me. He didn't see me, he just saw how I was dressed. Thats what he commented on. Maybe that's a good thing. Fuck maybe. God fucking shit up a dick maybe. I have nothing but maybe. Maybe I won't go crazy today. Maybe I'll see what is there today. Maybe I'm not naive. Maybe they accept me, maybe they like me but don't understand what the like, or that what they are liking isn't really exactly me. I am whatever you say I am I do suppose. In a way.
She didn't want to talk to me, I could tell. She told me she had OCD. It was comforting, I told her I had an anxiety problem, she just was like, eyebrow raise, both sides, no change in anything else. Maybe a quick turning upwards of the lips. I didn't know what that meant. She mattered to me because I thought she was a good writer and had a strong personality, he didn't matter because he seemed useless. I am a harsh person. I could try and accept him for what he was and try and see that. Here I am saying no one understands me when I completely withdraw from people that I'm told are not worth my attention. From what? society, cues I take as meaning something I don't value, their own neediness, society.
So I am an ant. I'm that ant that doesn't get any work done but thinks they're important because they sit in the corning dreaming of mattering. Not that there is any account of an ant that did anything like that.
We all give ourself worth in areas that we don't have it in and ignore areas we do.
Appreciation 101.
I skipped it.

Apparently I ramble but I wouldn't give up that for anything. (no one else understands=my explanation as to why they disregard my thoughts as not valid((dont we all do that? or am I alone?)) )
I get shivers and I try to figure out why. I come up with some pretty off answers.

Funny how much opinions are unstable, for reasons I don't care to explain. Maybe If I could you'd agree.

maybe.

I don't really feel like this. I don't think (How can you?)

How can you?

Dawn. Have I missed my train out of here? The scars over my eyes do not allow me to find time, images are severed from actuality.
Pessimism. I believe what will bring me the worst, I am weak from wanting to be strong. My ears are strained, my mind collapsing. Magnifying glasses destroy everything. Barren walls, white stains, oblivion. Black holes. A monster from the sea arises from the depth and swallows everything. Where are the flowers?
Words flow out but they mean nothing. Abundance of top quality ends that don't justify the means. The emptiness behind the shell. Seeing a life actually shred to pieces, destroy the evidence. Nobody's allowed in, no one can save a life. There's nothing to be saved. And we are stuck. And nothing ever moves like it should. The valley's always deeper, arms are never strong enough to pull out. Dark eyes bite off ankles and thighs and back and asses and necks. Sensuous beautiful necks. Breathing is never enough. Never say never. Never believe what they tell you, it's meant to build you up but all thats blown up is a deflating ego that eclipses eventually the milky moon with dark blue. And grey, scarred. And we learn to be ashamed of who we are and what we aren't because lies have set expectations too high. They were never supposed to be seen through. The shade is trasnparent, lies comes through but its Blinding. Only because I don't want to feel it.
Sorry for being depressing. I don't know. How can you?

Hello World.

Today was the first day of yesterdays past. Or the last. I confuse myself in theories and thus without direction blindly galavanting. Don't sell yourself short on me, bat those eyes in the direction of anything that isn't a myth. How far down has the venture gone, how wrapped up in yourself can you get? Are you trying to be present, a present for someone? Care for yourself! You idolater! remember what stands under us.
In the back are carpets trying to be masks for the ugly of heart, nest to us is a daemon, above us a tree rooted in the skies, hanging from it a monkey eats your heart. Red and juicy cherry for a pick pocketer. So unguarded.
The wise die before reality can take them away.
The angry have forgotten what its like to dream. So where are you know my soft shell, you are torn and tattered and I am hungry. May I eat you, oh thing I once cared for. Extinguish the flame before it convinces you to jump in.
Forsake me.
Don't partake in the fee.
for what we give. We Give we give we give we give
And what is to gain.
A penny for change. A penny for the stars falling off our ass.

Goodybye! In capitals drifting in distance. What was the bridge.
It was always me. You were always there. I have taken me away and now you are left and now I contemplate the act.
Theory before action? Suggest me to a way. I'll fight it if you tell me enough about the right kind of candy.
But candy rots your teeth and I want to be young again.
So I can pretend again without knowing what a fool has replaced that thing.
that....that thing. that thing. that thing.
Bring me my keys so I may unleash in this.
NO TAKE IT AWAY.
give it back to the diamond encrusted teeth so they may tear apart the impurity.
I dream of marshes.
SANITIZE.
Tonight or tomorrow. not yesterday. Those days only fill me with paths I thought to myself I should never take again.
Betrayed by what?
I ask, I pine, I lean, I bend, I pray.
But as wood hacked at by time so I my faith.
And my mind is tall but every wind which ways sweeps it to another crack.
Hacking bitting bark is breaking.
seedling.
Concieve with me.
Dine with me.
I'll feed everything I can with what I am and what I have to gain.
And then I'll get distracted.
and want you again when you have gone from potential.
or have decided on another mother.

Would someone just hold my head and let me know myself?
So you may know yourself I would not do the same.
Assuming of course no ones else needs this.
No one else is crazy? Correct.
The universe doesn't talk silly. Stop saying that.
And what is this for.
Blatancy taken to a whole nother layers. Lame.
Was I a still born, is this why I am the way I am.
AND WHAT IS THIS OBSESSION WITH DEATH.

I couldn't convince you if i tried to say a part of me has died. Because I am still living.
Self oh self where have you gone and left me barren. Waiting in the aisle. We were to become one my dear. But you have gone and left me at the alter.
I would be a terrible wife anyway.
I would be a cruel mother.
So write me off as the other.
and leave it at that.

NO love me.
Dear ah.
tear oh.
its not funny anymore. And i still am impaired. So we never changed anything. So can we please just rewind. PUSH THE BUTTON. I just want to feel home again. Bring me to the womb so I may grow anew. And they never tell you how your heart aches and how you hope and how its cold and things are breaking all the time and if you dream high you never do quite know anything but the fear of being crushed by the weight of yourself and how your never enough and how everything will one day end and nothing is special anymore and how everyone feels the same way because we are the same and we are all zombies and how the nights.
oh god the nights.

Empty me. I Take it back! Do nothing! I fear steps. I fear staying still. I fear being seen and judged and not being heard.

And it was over before it began. But it began after it ended and I am trying to be witty and prove something but no one ever sees it anyway and it just messes me up and I am on the floor. Naked.
but covered in my slime. Its a cloak! so you may not break me because I am broken.
AND IM SORRY.
but the way I am makes me inable to show you. Or change the only thing that makes me so because its who I am.
I am. Its me.

This, this is my honesty.

Give me something thats new, tell me something I've never been told before, interest me in anything but this. I want to move into the mountains and hide away forever more with my words and my feelings and this intensity. I want no longer to be seen, no one needs to know the things which rush through my head and leave me paralyzed. I am a puppet of my thoughts and feelings. I own the puppet, the string directing it lace back to it. I am not hiding away. I am, against some of my own thoughts, blabbering on about who I think I am and in the process revealing who I am.
Today in the car I thought "I no longer want to ask why, instead I want to ask what." I also tried to pretend that in going through a fog I would enter a slightly altered world, a parallel universe. At this moment I find myself asking, why not? Ha, do you see what my problem is yet? Its an intensely creative delusional mind I live in. Half the time I can just think back on my perceived experiences and think, "that was just a dream." And people call me deep. Ha. Intense, yes. I live on through all the oddness. I feel small. Do you know what I mean, do you feel it as I feel it?
I often reference to standing on the edge. I had an image today in my head of me, standing on the edge of a certain realm, all self indulgently held up high by my dreams, too afraid to take a leap into reality, too nervous to jump into what I might find if I could just convince myself to try. Shaking, terrified. The view was peaceful. I laugh at my self for my intensity, I'm still a child. I feel aged. I am peter pan. (I know I'm not peter pan).
I have such a tangled mind. My labyrinth. No string to help me out. My thoughts are powerful, only to me.
I am afraid of posting this. I'm afraid of being seen and all my input being dismissed because all I have done is worthless. I am both confident of myself and completely in doubt.

Some things that just were.

Holding arms that feel down only so deep
Crawling back to what might have been
But for weak delivery
Considered sin
Breaking bottles for the chance of living to get what one wants
Decisions come easy when you know what you want
Hate comes easy when you know what you want.

Trifles so belonging,
So don’t understand me, don’t try, don’t let me let you in. Don’t forget with me you never win. We are never home, its always gone too far, I always over step boundaries. That line, yeah I’ll cross it.

STRIKE ME
Fuck me up, learn me my lesson
Don’t hate me I cry,
Corrupted crumpled seething
Hate for the owner.

Dear me, please stop.
Please figure this out soon and do what you supposed you could or believe you can’t and move on.
Dear self; I’m sorry. Hell comes too quickly, so mysterious. Like a lover it enters. We are all the bearers of an affair, cheating, destroying, lying, forgetting.
Miscommuication
Ripping and hacking and gnawing and devouring.
I DIE A LITTLE MORE EACH DAY.
The trap was well set, the actions no more predictable than firestorm disaster of sky.
So trampled, one who walked out into the road of its own regard.
Bring me back to life, I plea: hoping someone will care enough to tell me to pick another cup. Emit words please oh god.
I died the day reality was created.
Attraction: meet the living dead. The heat will stop and head shall freeze over.
I burned myself when I made so to dethaw. My eyes singed out, ears defected.
Deflect these dreams.
END IT> oh god my god oh god
Kill me screams a part of me I want most
Fear driven by fear
I WILL NOT LET GO,
Climbing over vines that hang me.

humph

I'm thinking I should create a secret blog, where I can write openly about anything I want to. But It's not going to happen. I don't need it, I have journals. I always try and make what I'm writing worth reading though, so its not likely I'll get out whats really inside. I hope I try not to give these thoughts too much air, hoping they suffocate. Sometimes they do.
I'm feeling pessimistic about certain things. Its not enough. I'm speaking cryptically. Simply, I need to find problems in things. Well not need, but I feel the drive to pick apart things. In certain areas I'll never really be satisfied and I don't see that much wrong with that. How odd.
I don't like plans sometimes, I like stability though, sometimes.

Covered

Silver and gold are precious, so i know.
And I'v been told that moments of perfection
they mean everything
even if they never meet our reflection

Sitting on pavement
its moving
Unstable
They've gone and broken my cable
And if I were able
I'd try to find a piece of the truth
but I'm living a fable

And faithful,
maybe
Don't save me
even if I ask
because its getting harder to see
everything I want to be
in the rear view mirror

Perplex motion
living to devotion
resperirating dying motives
waking up
covered in cobwebs
hostess

Experiments.

My moods have been so unpredictable as of late. In English class today, to just kind of introduce ourselves we had to write a response to a poem, which was about not being able to express oneself.

Inability number one.

We were allowed to write about whatever we liked, a lot of people dabled on the basics of who they were, what they wanted other people to see. I want people to see the broken. Maybe that's a flaw, maybe it can't be decided. I felt exposed though and the response gotten wasn't what I wanted. I was so scared to share it, probably because I figured if I put myself on display I would be able to not fear letting people in. No one wants to come in this deep though, they shouldn't want to. I don't know what I want.

Inability number two. Probably should be at three at the moment, maybe four.
I am so full of maybes. I just don't know.
Don't know whether to count that.

I think I think wrong, off. I love my thought processes sometimes but sometimes I just really want to have a calmer brain. I'm addicted to the conflict, and in my obsessional tendencies I fear I have become dramatic and childish, well i should fear it anyway.
i don't know whether to count that or not.

I guess i am conceited, self absorbed definitely. Good thoughts, Stasi, try to focus on the positive. Am I constantly acting? I am bad at it.

Its possible to not think about it, so why do I continue dwelling? I am a ruler off my moods as much as they are a ruler of me.

"My god this is our life, we're living like we're victims" Terry Naomi.
I am.

I would ask who ever reads this to forgive my mood, the past one not being my brightest.


What else do I remember from today? I wish I could put words to all that I think. Kristen's response hit a very strong note with me, I respect her for what she wrote.
Carly also did a nice job, so did Sarah. I liked Sarah's a lot actually. They are such good writers, so different from each other but so satisfying to hear. What is it they have in common? They all bring a sense of emotional honesty to the table, which I guess I value, no I know I do. I find I don't like closed off people as much as I used to, I don't want to deal with them anymore.

My thoughts fly to my flaws, things I should try to improve. I never will try though. I get myself stuck. Secretly I think a lot of life's beauty comes from the moments when I am broken, atleast thats what I think I think. I don't know how true all of my thoughts are, I always have to be careful, if given any choice of what to think about with no consequences I would day dream my life into grandeur.

So many things fall apart so easily. People make promises they know they won't keep, they hold on to things that aren't forever, pretending like they can just adopt them into theirlifstyle without any pain when it dies, when it gets ripped out. I do. I don't know about you.

the Whip.

So what am I to do with this aching heart of mine? Where am I to go now that all I know has been shattered. In other words my entire world I have aquired has been proven faulty. Is it possible to be unreal, being? It seems it. I live daily a life created from misfitting dreams and harsh cold cruelty, to myself, by myself.
Is it possible they could ever provide the means for relief?
Yes, I have seen it. It requires much sacrifice to gain this way but it suffices when you don't want to compromise.

Enter fear. Of what? The phoenix. I am attached by a lie that gets me through by the root of my teeth, all else it rips away. Barren world draining me. I am naked and bleeding, but my mind percieves flying. The vision fades, replaced by sharpened nails clawing.

It creeps in, mascarading, massacring.
And I end it, crawling away, confused, my mind cleared but cloudy.
Have I met my spirit guide or is also my connection between eyes and perception scrambled. I bleed a mess on the floor. But there is something left worth following, or taming.
The whip cracks, I agree with it but can I entice it to play my side?

FOLLOW ME.
There is no direction.
I've lost my head for the moment but the feeling reigns supremely sending shots of sinless joyful panging.
Enter new life.
the birth.
The creature the reins and horse and rider intertwined to collaboration make.
Given life through recognition.
Breathe it, Fear it, Respect it
BECOME it.
or was it already you?

Disregard but for the most private abstract moments of exploration. Thoughts loved, danger divine. Remember the nights alone. Apply memory, how faded it seems.

Come all ye lost.

In the mists of everything you lack, something haunts you. Desperate to stay above water, you grab on to anything around you, but what you find escapes and with it your hope.


Oh well.

More expectations.

I wish there was a way to write that would include no effort but would have maximum attainment of expression. I just want to be able to start typing and exactly how I feel could just flow out, no risk of not being understood, no risk of finding or creating things that I might take too close to my heart.

I feel the strangest type of discontentment at the moment. I almost feel afraid of it, but not. Its calmly digging in, its not here to stay, I don't think, but it still feels dangerous, yet productive. I've been thinking the most beautiful thoughts.

I wonder how many people are actually interested in reading this, even if its not even one person, I guess I'm good enough. I'll have to be. Recently, theres been this urge in me to be heard, I want to show people this. I want to see people's this. Not many people do it the way I want them to, but they still do it well. Just not my way. Maybe I just think I'm too much an authority in what is a good way to do things. I mean I guess maybe there is no right or wrong way. Advectives are so fucked sometimes, in my opinion. My opinion doesn't really matter too much, but I'll keep trying to express it the best I can.

So what is the point of the truth? I don't know, it just seems the right path for me. I can't understand lying about the big things at times, so I condemn it. At times I condemn my self, so why do I see others condemning me as such a bad thing? Well maybe not too too bad, but I can dwell, I am obsessive.

These thoughts were not those which I wanted to share. Damn mechanics of my life. The things which passed through my mind a few minutes ago were so honest, to the point of cutting to the depth of my heart. This is just slightly under the surface area. I am disappointed in one way, pleased in another.

I really miss Automm, she really has gained my respect. I've been feeling very distant from things lately. I've been dreaming of just the right kind of interaction, I just don't know how to ask for it. Maybe someday it'll happen, but it won't be planned. Maybe I'll force it, maybe that'll ruin it or it might be just what I need.

I thought 'I can't' today. It wasn't so bad, maybe even healthy. Perhaps we'll find out.

Verdicts.

Well I guess I feel alone right now. I know I'm being silly and could probably end the feeling if I wanted to, but life becomes so much more entertaining when you dwell on negative thoughts.
I'm a masochist. A serious mental masochist. I rarely think I'm good enough. It feels as if all my confidence is just a facade sometimes, a defense mechanism. Well some of it I know it, some of it is outlandish and childish. When I fight with people I don't think they realize I know myself better than they do. Its really no use repeating things I already tell myself, my world doesn't end. I guess I maybe did need the toughening. Petty remarks don't reach me and I'm done not doing anything about people attacking me. I hope I don't come across as a bitch or do anything rash. The two statements I just said don't go together very well. Thinking it through may either be a rationilaztion for incoherency in my own mind and the world around me, or it may prove to find a fact. (Maybe both.) Sometimes the facts just don't matter like I think they should, that isn't to say they don't matter, just not how my expectations figure.
I screw myself over slightly often. Maybe its just learning. Today feels weird. I think it may be due to the fact that I've been getting closer to certain people and drawing away from others. In my need to fix myself, which may or may not prove needed or wise or useful, I have started to slowly change. I wonder if anyone besides me notices. As I journey on, I really don't want to hurt anyone as I go about life, but I feel as if I am at a point where I just can't consider anything outside of certain things. I feel like in order to maintain the humanity within myself it will always be that way. Closed minded and open minded are such confusing terms. I don't have a verdict on them, nor do I think I ever will.

didn't want to share this at first.

A cold hand reaches out
And from its knuckles bleed out a virus
And the trees still sway
The glass yet remains full, though she tried to leave
Beats resounding, rhythmic pounding
Was it man felt or some abstracted being?
Who are they to scrip out this meaning?
Dripping red, losing the fight
Take it over, find your in sight
Don’t leave me when you go
Because I trip over monsters I have found to be real
thought we were just playing pretend

Don’t hate me
Let me desert screaming he
This was not my fault
Well some
So feel it
I wouldn’t accept it
Choke on it
You won’t find it in you to deflect it
Because I know you from surface eyes and foreign resting hiding spaces
Feel it burn
-then quick resentment
Reforming accusations
I want still nothing to do with you
But see you burn
Leave it for tomorrow

Baby boy
I’d want to keep you
But my arms have been ripped at the seams

Pride

I wish I would be able to remember the quote I thought of today. It was perfect. Most of my favorite things fall away so quickly.
Every where I look I see an angry smile. Where did this unquenchable fire come from?
Trying to see from the other persons perspective is infuriatingly helpful. And so hard to make yourself do.
So I guess I kind of do like the drama.
At this moment a few people are mad at me. I really either find it funny or confusing. a little hurtful to the pride. Nonetheless, I've learned and am learning. I'm still such a child in some aspects.
Pride pride pride. Need I elaborate?

attach to thing before.

I had plans to write about my walk today.
bah.

Bonkers.

there's more to say. There's always more to say. So where am I going? Sometimes I find symbolism in things I shouldn't find symbolism and it gets hard to shake it because, well I haven't figured quite out why it is, but by god it gets annoying. If I could blame anything, well I'd blame a few things but among them would be the media and all the stories you read about. They all set free the dreams of men wanting to be special (well not only men, I mean mankind) and dreams can be so much more believable then reality. You want something so bad it becomes real. And if you feel it doesn't it hold some type of tangibility, so then doesn't it in a way become real?
I don't like these thoughts.
A while ago sitting by a fireside that may or may not have been lit I decided I loved thinking. So I guess maybe if I thought it and I felt it, it must in some way be lovable. And it is. It just seems more fitting to say I don't like thinking, because getting specific takes so much time.
There seems a trap within my line of reasoning I can never get around.
We are such dillusioned creatures, humans.
And I'd like to claim I have truth in some of what I say, but I am weak-minded and soft-hearted and stubborn and blind and hypocritical and contradicting. I really sometimes wish I were the strong one.
Funny how relatable I am to my past. Not really funny. I didn't understand me when I said the words, but I did.
I just want to be really able.
I'm mad at reality.

(I don't really care enough because I don't want to interfere with the thoughts I just had and make it not just raw me, well as raw as I have tested myself and in this moment wish to be/think I can be. But I really am very naive. And immature. I know I'm picking apart myself and thats not good, but thats what I feel like doing right now and because I don't have the will or capacity and because if I did there might be a problem, but only might. Lost my train of thought. I get very "I know" a lot. Just wanted to restate that somewhere inside me I know I'm fallible and often wrong. Well hopefully not too often.

Oh and I think I think different nowadays. I don't know if its because of the medicine. I know I'm repeating myself, but I realized it even more as I was writing this. I don't know how I feel on the subject. Mixed feelings.
gah. mixes)

Curveballs.

People with the capacity to think don't win these games. They don't play them.

"Fights problems with bigger problems"

He told me he thought that the medicine dulled my idealogy. But it doesn't. It sharpens my thoughts, my reasoning is so much more sound. I can push away the fuzz and bizarre ideals that didn't belong, unless then, I was meant to be driven to absolute lunacy. Then again, there and back again kind of describes my situation at the moment. And just like Frodo in the Lord of the Rings(I know its terribly corny, sthu) I return changed.
That isn't to say I still don't have my own little problems.
He didn't give me time to properly disagree. I did. My inside workings in the moment made me feel proud. The machine feels a little better oiled now, the bearer has been attending to the creation which needs constant adjustment.
My world is about change. I'm obsessed with it. That and labeling things. I don't like the negative type of judging. And sometimes I do. Do the complications within what I operate make me a liar? I never have time to tell my full story.
Back near the end of July I wanted full connection with someone but now I just want time to prosper without being hindered by others dangers.

So much drama has been going on. I feel like I should be mad but I'm just trying to figure things out. In a way I'm glad it has been happening because its forcing me to become stronger in my convictions. I feel like a terrible friend. I don't want to have to deal with worlds crashing down upon everyones feet, shards of it digging in ankles. Why can't we all just walk away from how fucked up things have become.

So why does he think the medicine dulls my ideologies? So what if it forces me away from childish condemning of the nourishment which keeps it alive? So what if I cherish the good in my life and can appreciate why things are the way they are? Yes I do dream of betterment of society, but its really not as bad as I used to think it is. Its weird being the one in the discussion who holds a better view on the situation. I've just moved on. Maybe prematurely. But I think classifying things like that is just unhealthy, sometimes maybe necessarily. But who's complaining?

When you just want to be at home

I know its hard to understand that I don't care about you anymore,
So close your eyes and make me fade away
Dreaming in white,
you know you don't want to be alone
Push and pull
when you just want to be at home

Taking breath to let something in
Hate and insecurity cloud your sky
How does it feel to know you just can't win?
I'd fight it off but theres nothing for me now


you're actions say your over it
but your eyes say you're alone

Do the antics get tiring
when you just want to be at home?

Bubbling.

Where did the intimacy of life go? I feel more connected to some weird world than I do to the people I hold closest. I almost hope this is temporary. I feel the distance and it bothers me. Slightly. Unable to feel how deep down it goes, or where it actually ends I let it linger for a moment then gradually the apparency of it dissapears and with it the sensation.
Day by day there has been slow progress, this is not to say problems are not definitely existent, but I'm re-me. Kinda. The old me I once knew. Who really can define a "me". I put so much importance around the word. Hell knows it, I'm self obsessed, don't know how to not be.
My fingers hurt when I focus on them. Does that mean I need a distraction? Does pulling attention away mean there was a distraction, even if its just the natural progression of things, which is what exactly again?
For the first time today I made a tiny story in my head instead of thinking in "nerve town". It helped, I didn't twitch or anything as my mind kind of wandered. Her name was Ida and she lived in a tiny house. Strangers were not her favorite. Thats as far as I got, couldn't think of anything else. Apparently I'm not as productively creative as I desire.
My dentist upon me telling him I was an AP student tried to get into the theoretics of racism and why certain books are read for classes. His vocabulary also expanded quite tremendously. Do so few words really make that much difference in how one acts to another. Guidelines are everywhere. How far do we go? Whats insulting? Likelihood to laugh at this joke? blah blah blah.
What ever I've written I don't claim to hold anymore insight than a slug would have in its despair whilst some child pours salt on it, watching while it bubbles.

My I am in a strange mood.

Sand

Stay, whisper stay into my ear
Beckon on right with a cold forgiving hand
Quiet ones we long to hear
Single and solitary secrets of a grain of sand

Who will listen when we no longer live in sound?
Screaming denial, recognize impact with ground
Pushed and Pulled, he is forced around
Hunger begins only to feed a resting mound

Lay in the wind, lie with the man
Cry into sea-salted might, leave want now alone
Relying on hours to turn might into can
The best broken style knows not to howl at home

Who will listen when we no longer live in sound?
Screaming denial, recognize impact with ground
Pushed and Pulled, he is forced around
Hunger begins only to feed a resting mound

A rising moon falls short no longer

Song

Say then we wish what we will
Laying in the arms of angels dressed in wicked
And asking myself if perhaps it is the other way around
Do we dare admit a merry go round?

But when I close my eyes I see the prettiest flight
and big blue depths inside each sole
the dance of every child finding love is everywhere
Feel what yearning can bring

Barricades hold back black water
Storms bring the sickest truth
I was led to believe stories existed
Inspiration used to be pure

But when I close my eyes I see the prettiest flight
and big blue depths inside each soul
the dance of every child finding love is everywhere
Hold now what yearning can bring

It breaks me down.

Speaking blye

I wish I were talented for if I were you could hear me without screaming
If I were I wouldn’t be prone to such endless dreaming
Skies of Technicolor daze along an endless sky
How far do we stretch until too far is gone
Whispers light up and I’m falling down

A mark has been made a constantly opened scar remains
Staying by the wayside its just another day reciting same old lines
Every spiral run meets another line
Another web entangled in tomorrow’s trail
Waiting

Attempts move on without the affects desired
Captors still are victors victimized
They are mired

Do you hear what lies beneath yet
How far will you not go
You’re dying
I am too
Succumbing to half thoughts
Half true
Quartered

Beside me, lay beside me
Take my hand or let me make mine
Welcoming

What is this?

What odd things happen when not expected. Hmm. I contemplate who I was a month and a half ago. That self is so different, I think I am coming to terms with who I am. I've been running for such a long time. But that is lofty, to say that I even know exactly who I am. I know this moment, well enough. That is a relative sentence., Don't know if I used that in the right context. I like today. I have had four hours of sleep, seems so cruel but really its not so bad. I complain to myself a lot unnecessarily. Oh addiction. I feel as if I am addicted to the emotions which rack me and leave as they will/are permitted to.
I over estimate and under estimate control so much. I don't know if other people do as much as I do. I hope not. Well of course some people do, but you know what I mean.
My sister asked me what I was afraid of. I found an answer I haven't been letting myself admit, although it's not complicated and its not that hidden.

Myself.
I am terrified of myself. Isn't that weird? Maybe that is another over-reaction. And its not the only piece of the puzzle in the two ways I can fathom this statement could pertain to.

Now, I'm definitely not claiming I know everything or even anything, or that I have anything definitely figured out, after all these are just random floating thoughts.
What does that exactly mean anyway in context? I have not thought it over that much.

Funny.

Really bad short story

By the edge of the silhouetted universe a figure sat with its knees surrounded by its arms. In contrast to the reflection in the water, the eyes of the mysterious being seemed stopped, almost dead but not quite so far gone. She seemed like a creation dissatisfied by her attempts to mimic that which made her. In that she also differed from the personified water. The universe could never be forced into the pond feeding into a tumultuous waterfall, but that is what it meant to the character. The dim globes in the sockets of her contemplative head took in everything and slowly tore it apart, without her awareness, reforming it into something completely unrelated apart from that which she had forced to seem a link between the two.

She sat and dreamt of things befitting another worldly creature. Some thought that was what she was. From all that can be seen without prying into mechanisms far too dangerous to be known (or made, which one it is shall never be known) though, see was not. If the world had the eyes she supposed it did, she would have been in trouble. Once upon a star, her mind working in conjunction with a very indescribable set of circumstances had come to believe that all done by her was admirable; that she was the utmost delight to anyone watching.

[If you can not tell, this writing has a strong tone suggesting relevance to perception]

A boy came up to the stranger in the wood sitting down next the the pond leading into a waterfall that could be thought of as an allegory to the universe and all (or a few) of the ways it works.

Observable to none but the birds, who only cared about the two because they could in the future pose as a food source or a danger, the two began an interesting dialouge.

"Excuse me."
"what?"
"why do you sit here and not move all day everyday?"
"What else is there to do?"
"That."
"Excuse me?"
"Just that. I would have you do something."
"I am."
"You are being counter productive, you do nothing of worth and so you do nothing."
"But by doing nothing I would be doing something. You can't actually do nothing."
"You know what I mean."
"I try not to assume."
"Obviously you are failing."
"I never said I succeeded."
"Then what is the point of trying?"
"Whats the use in not? I apply effort when it would seem worthy enough."
"Worthy? You are no god."
"We are all co-creators of our own world."
"WHY ARE YOU NOT DOING A LOT?"
"No need to get forceful."
"I will do what I like. Now if you would be so kind as to answer my question."
"It is who I am to observe. That is not to say I do so well, or that I do not miss out on other things by following my nature as I have found it. But the world is my own an that which I have thought is my home."


He then preceded to walk off. The boy had decided early in life it was his mission to pass judgement on all whom he found along his "path" in life. He didn't like to call it a path because that had too many connotations to destiny, which he thought was a load of poppycock.

[Interpret me!]

He could hold his ground in any discussion, he just rarely willed to. A firm believer in action which could be observed from his previous discussion with the pond girl, he could stand for no one who stood still too long.

Moving on.

Walking
bring one foot ahead.
left catch up!
surpassed.
don't get left behind little one.
Art thou stuck?
PULL HARDER.
Rip it out.
remove you from stationary
"Floop"
Now then do you find yourself unable to keep pace?

"this is not a race"

still, who will finish first?
does then something pick this up and

end the allotted path.


Remembering the origin
almost as false (well faulty) as predicting the outcome
o portray my surprise
feet keep moving without ground
have I learned to slide?

Loss of control
shakes me
I quake in
loss of heart
for a battle
bring sword rain and sorrow
And have I found my answer yet?
crumble into ash
flame scorns me
scores across my body swore they never have or will matter
forgive her soul.
letting go

Blurp.

Weirdest feeling today.
I felt like my nerves were being pulled through my cognitive area of my brain, straight out.
Why do I feel these things when I'm not high? Its so absurd.
I still feel weird, like I'm on something, but I know I'm not so I just don't know what to think.
My brain feels like its being slowed down, it feels clear or cut off. I'm not sure which one is more accurate.
I have experienced something like this so I know it will go away, but it's just really annoying at the moment.

I actually had a slightly productive day although it was spent entirely on my own unless you count texting and facechat as real human interaction.
I
1.finished a book(first book of the summer)
2.Started a new one and kind of understood its crazy science.
3.cleaned my room for realsies. (kind of.)
4.found new music
5.has several realizations (each day is taking its own slow pace of normalling out mood-wise)(thanks to the new book and other various events/people these past few days)
6.drank tea outside in the dark, saw my first fireflies of the summer under candle light while reading
7.did super calming yoga

I was so restless until the last two, but I am happy regardless.

Love

i dont think the problem with saying love is with the quantity so much as the quality and the definition.
Mean it.

LaDeDah

So life moves on, with or without me. Weird. What an odd concept to grasp, the sheer lack of influence I have, the lack of say I have in matters that effect me, the inescapable dilemmas which hold no answer. Sure, in a very tiny way I can be a catalyst, and there are certain people I temporarily affect(hopefully positively). And we do and we do not make a difference, depending on what you count as a difference and what is just....well I don't know.
Daily I find more fragility inside of me, how corruptible I am, how I've always had a decent helping of negative. It really is just quite silly that I need to discover this, (again) that it never was/has remained apparent. Although not always.

I guess I just prefer living in, well, a softer world. But that isn't always true.
Thats okay though.
To be honest I feel slightly uncomfortable revealing my faults and naivety.

Its so easy to temporarily forget the little things that make us uneasy, but they are so harshly reinforced. Harsh being a relative term.

I wouldn't say I've become afraid of some of my potential, but I definitely am much more aware of it, to say the least.

Resigning, accepting and giving up are so similar and easily mixed up. The difference though, oh man.
Oh man.

I am so fearful of the future. Vaguely, I remember mr.koccur mentioning that which scares us is the unknown. He couldn't be more right in my case. Except maybe losing control. How childish of me. How typical of a human being.

Things I've been told today that make sense

1. The world is meaningless, but theres no use not living it.(making your own meaning)
2. Things happen and who are we to say what is best?

things i already should have known.
lol whatever.

jfkdjkldfj

Today I regressed a little.
I don't know why.
I don't know what direction to go in.

I'm still in the process of letting go.
I still see positives and negatives.
It's been three weeks since this started.
I don't know what to do anymore.

When I am alone I find myself again. When I am in the midst of movement I falter. But I don't think I would blame outward contact.

Since when have I been awkward and nervous?
gah,

How dare I be so weak?

I have learned a lot and I have lost a lot, but I really need to just be okay. Which is to say everything will be in the end.
I think myself in circles.

It would seem my problems start with narcissism and a deflating ego.

garfunkle.

I think it would be cool if I deleted this entire thing.
But i also think I would maybe think back and wish I hadn't.
So i restrain my inhibition and it dies away.

Maybe I am wrong in thinking I have changed a lot since I began, but I was reading one of my earlier post and my god, what happened?
I can barely connect with the naivety that once wrote, though I feel no smarter or wiser.
Just different.
It would seem to me I very rarely climb but move along sideways. Which is just as difficult at times. If we are talking rock walls.

I am entirely confused regarding want. and goals.
Ugh.
Frustration.

I would delve in but I don't have the will or motivation.
Funny how when we are focused in on something it magically appears everywhere. What worlds we create from our agreements.
I wouldn't overestimate ability though.

David Sedaris annoys me with his over exaggerations because I feel like his essays concerning his life are nothing but false and thus his points have no validity. And what is the point of making one if you actually had to embellish life to make it seem accurate. I guess selling a lot of novels. People buy into shit. I but into shit.

Cest le vie.

Tick tock.

I'm going to sit here and wrestle with myslef and try to create something atleast okay out of it.
I don't have much to say.
But I want to say it all.
All these discrepencies with the truth.
Ha, all these facebook quizzes tell me I am a dreamer.
The more I think about it, the more I think that is true. I don't know if that is either a sign of my weakness regarding my ability to be manipulated by repetition, or just another seemingly positive realization.
Seemingly.

When I try to feel me these days I can not tell what is there anymore.
I hope I haven't hurt anyone.
I want to be selfish and I do not and I am both and always will be. So will you.

I hate admitting that something can not be fixed, and I think that can be healthy or it can not be.
I am spewing over. Boiling on high.
I am so dumb sometimes.

When we look to the sky tonight, the god we swore never was real visits us in the sorrow of another misconception.
Its not what you thought.
It rarely is.

I want to be done and go do something else, but I need to keep going.
Even if it is worth little to even me.

I can not form anything acceptable anymore.

Acceptance really is key.
Everything is key.
Depends on who you want to be.
Its true.

fdhfhdjkhjds.
Life keeps moving

Beauty and Anger

Living is an art they say.
But I'm just trying to get through another day.
I don't want to give me up, but i don't want to drink anymore from this cup.
I am diseased and tattered.
lying in the waste of what never could have worked
loss and digression
hunger
no satisfaction.

I've been making a lot of analogies pertaining to baking. I find it annoying and funny and life is confusing. I just don't know anymore.
Where all of my logic went.
Dissipating.

I don't feel like me anymore, but I think its only because I want a reason to freak out.
Me and my selfish body really do like suffering.
Drama.
Fuck it.
I live off of it.
Only sometimes.

And how far do I go until I am completely broken.
I always think I am.
I am.
Not broken.
I am.
Breathing
and scared
and changing
and longing for the final embrace of hate to wash away.

I guess in the end I was right
and I was wrong.
This was coming for such a long time
post hoc?

I still love me.
And i believe in me.
sometimes.

I need to start looking outward occasionally.
maybe.

So many goals.
So unclear.

My awe of the world in increasing and my fragility becomes apparent.
I am in love with life, I am at battle with it.

All subsides.

Lists

Lately I've been wanting to make lists.
so no matter how foolish it may seem I am going to prepare a few.

List 1.
Things I want
1.peace
2.acceptance.
3.knowledge in the right areas
4.love.(the right kind in the right places, which doesn't necessarily connotate to romantic love)
5.to be satisfied.
6.clarity
7.to not be bored, but stability
8.loss of inability
9.stories to tell
10.success in what i want
11.to know what i want
12.to not go insane
13.progress
14.opened eyes
15.to be liked.
16.to feel all the right things
17.instant gratification
18.that awesome feeling after getting something you've waited for
19.consistency sometimes(even though it can make you boring and dumb)
20.to not be wrong
21.close communication with a lot of people
22.deep discussions
23.to teach people things. i dont know what kind of things though.
24.balance. most of the time
25.romantic love. occasionally. but not the annoying kind, lol
26.to help people
27. eradication of fear
28. beautiful thoughts
29. to be pretty
30. wonder of the world
31. a better singing voice
32. not to hurt anyone unless it helps them in the end
33. to be able to tell the difference.
34. comfort.
35. a really warm comfy blanket
36. to frolic through a field
37. to lay fields of gold



long list.

huh.

And then there was light, but the light only made things more complicated.
But in the dark I wander aimlessly.
In the light we think we know were we are going.

I feel drained. My emotional roller coaster seems normal now. I am so used to it.
Am I coming to terms with who I am, or just accepting defeat from something I swore would never own me? Both?

Funny how things we think we have most control over spiral into oblivion.

Unraveled.

So i have not made a real post in forever. I'm sure there's an answer as to why somewhere within the reach of thought, within myself, but I'm just too tired to look anymore.
There's so much I want to shed light on, to get out in the open, to admit to, to own or let fall away. I can not chose. I have always been bad with decisions.
As of late I have been consumed with worried strands.
The more I pull the tighter they wrap.
I figure at some point they may break away, snap.
Well either they will or I will.

I have been told that the human spirit is much stronger than the thoughts which fill the moments, the words in the end but a means, smaller than we are.
And the entanglement strengthens, in a different direction. Oh but that I were able to discover an analogy closest to the true picture.

Looking back I find I am not alone.
but that I am.
Separate, coming apart, becoming a part. All these things are, I am. I have always been so,
we unravel while gaining.

I finally caved.

Do you know that Taft passed the 16th amendment? I do. Its called the income tax and I have been told it is one of the major downfalls of the United States. I’m not sure if the government is a good or a bad thing and I’m definitely not sure if a big, controlling government is one of the positive aspects of life. While on the subject, I’m not sure what exactly is positive.
Now, I know the world is full of generalizations that, by nature, get us nowhere, but further entangled in some net of an almost false world; But in that is isn’t false.
I do not think that means a lot.

Sitting in my bed late at night, I always had this, what I would classify as, demonic want of creating my own world. Quaking in my thoughts, I would lose myself to the nerves inside this contradictory mind and begin to find courage.
While not sure of what I would consider broken, I have lost any definition of self, and observatory of the world around me, I find myself unable to capture a single photograph of analytical material. Though why, I am not quite sure.

The world is opening its eyes to find a constant state of mating. The world is making love to itself and reproducing slightly altered, consistent copies of self.
And somehow I am not divided.

One of the only questions I can still find is if poetic justice exists in anything but a nondirect sense.
Lying in the grass I am not so sure
Red Robbins flitter by and ripples appear without any apparent reasoning.

Yesterday I tried to save a beetle, but upon covering it with a napkin intended to aid in carrying it to safety, I failed to realize I only crushed the poor diety.
Perhaps if I had only chosen the option of hand to shell contact, its regretful juice would not cover the gym floor.
Looking back I can’t seem to place past in present without altering it.
Maybe that is whst the gypsy meant.
And the newest theories co-exist with my preconceived notions, with which I just end up dismissing.

Daisy looks at me as if she can see into the future, as if she resents it. The moment is gone and now all I find in her eyes is a glass remnant of the moment before. Knowing I should not try too hard to configure stories that may only be permitted to thrive in my own mind, there still lies the inescapable truth that often times I seem to be fated to remain incapable of letting go.
Why is it that my only moments of true self actualization lay dormant in the world of drifting clouds and faltering grass strands.
Reminder to self: try not to drift off into nightmares too unchecked.
Whenever I stop to rest this rebellious state of conscious tends to just wander around. Maybe its actually not a negative thing, but I don’t want to react too badly with these chemicals of possibility. Oh science, I hate it(which is to say, I would like it more if I could use it more flawlessly), but I seem to be bound to stumble upon it in daily life.
This is much too frequently for me, but I can not alter it, so I’m not going to try to alter it (Atleast not now).
As of recent, I have been having these crazy dreams where all my fears come true, but in some way they are more beautiful then the most abstract, brilliant wonder-world my flawed minds is able to conceive.
Its not my fault.
Or maybe it is.
One thing I have discovered it that I often try to fix things that are what would seem content in there current state. And even when something actually is flawed and I go about altering it, I only precede to futher complicate situations.
Laziness continues to flock every actions I mistakingly follow through with. Often temptation arises to believe every thought owned is faultly.
Why this obsession with being wrong?
A bark sounds, reminding me of my tendency to trail off.
I know I can be annoying with my colossal case of ADD, but who really ever know what they are talking about?
The dog seems almost as obsessed with my attention as I am with everything else. I try to feebly convery this to her, but all sense of humor I have remains for another day inexpressible.
Sometimes I am tempted to shout at the world that all is an expression of a self- scripted plan.
I wake up with thoughts that are not mine. Trailing off is not so bad, but duality is frustrating.
My mother screams at me, iterating the utmost importance of being awake. I do not know why. Always, she seems lost to the cause of dreaming. Has she not also danced in the radiant light of daring stars, thouched the sky of heaven and found strength to breathe in the suffocating depth where creatures of unsolvable questions meet? The stars and the sea are my playground. Why would I want to leave?
I suppose she finds her games in this much more concrete world, perhaps I am the unlearned one.
Why must someone be at fault?
Someone told me I ask a lot of questions, which might translate into too many, but I don’t really see a problem.
Okay maybe I see a slight problem but nothing worth abandoning the rest of me for,
Stumbling out of bed, I roll on the floor attempting to stretch cramped muscles and finally greet the day. There is nothing to wear that suits my mood, but I find some type of pleasure in a red and blue striped shirt, loosely fitting and an old pair of faded jeans. Not my best, but I don’t thinkg the fair old lady recognized as my grandmother will mind.
“Kentucky,”
She used to say, “was good to me and as a result I favor an outlook on life which serves as a reminder that judgement need only be negative if productive.”

I’m not sure I see her reasoning, but I’m not sure if she or her morale require any. While it is on my mind, I need to recognize the that that I am very repetitious in my thoughts.
Note to self: contemplate productivity of it later.
My experiment is to find use in excursion of external effort. More for the purpose of passing the time than to learn anything. That is not to say that I am exceedingly bored or unsatisfied with what is so much as a statement of the eternal state of a time requiring constant action(external and internal).
My mother calls to me as I brush my teeth, saying we must be going, and I am exhausted with not having enough time to do anything well, finish half-heartedly and find my shoes missing. Retrieving them from an almost usual resting place, rushing to the gas-guzzling red s.u.v, I worry that my mother will finally reach her limit of patience and leave without me.
(The fact that I can not be on times does not represent a lack of love or reverence for those I leave waiting for me.)
As I stumble into the car, still slightly in the fuzz of a dreaming state, I check for any signals of frustrations on her face. The only trace quickly disappears into a stoic look, almost normal for her; but her new state of calm has not existed long enough for me to trust in its reliability. My mother tends to morph into different creatures with the passing of time. It could almost be considered seasonal, but refuses to follow any connection to the mood of her habitat. People love my mother and they despise my moth, almost as haphazardly as her actions.
She pulls out of the driveway, leading to our odd dweling and , merges with the slight traffic characteristic of the area we reside in.
Temosa is not the greatest place in the world, but it comes close, if such things are measurable.
Oh impatience. I have little of any staying power and my nearly inconsistent moods are nothing off for me.
People used to say something on the subject, but I forget the content of the sentences.
Oh existence. Failable
That’s not a word.
Oh experimentation.
It leads me nowhere.
Still I arrive somewhere.
“Hello Nina.”
She has me call her that, it seems a little superfluous to me, but I don’t think I mind so much as find it unusual. Though in context it seems not so. Odd ways for an odd woman. Infact, in that light it seems completely normal: oh the double-negatives of the world.
I wonder if there is someway to see all its ways, separate and together at once. Though it has been attempted, it would seem near impossible, atleast in my field of view.
I am utterly foolish.
“Hello, my dear old lady.”
She calls me that, dear old lady, while I call her young girl. In secret, this is probably symbolic or something, but I care not enough to even begin to explain the complexities.
Some personality test I took told me I was high in openness, which is to say I am good at finding connections that aren’t usually visible. Maybe that’s because they aren’t there until someone says they are.
(the old, if a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, did it actually make a
Sound?)
The fact also means I’m at high risk for psychosis, which isn’t suprising. People who are constantly battling off dehabilitizing views in the way things work often find themselves as either crazy or on the way to becoming so. I’m not so upset about it though, it keeps things interesting.
Honesty shall forever be my downfall, which in turn may be my saving grace (but with an attitude like this it may be neither. I don’t know the future and merely speak from past experience).
Still, I am reminded of my dreams which are thought upon so vividly they tend to become reality.
Properly used, I think all might react much more smoothly.
Perhaps there is time to learn.
Our conversation moved to criminals and alligators. I don’t know why we talk about alligators so much, but I faintly recall my mother mentioning that she as a younger woman participated in very hazardous activities, and I am tempted to wonder if alligator wrestling could have been one.
Maybe I am going crazy

Someone once suggested that I take anxiety pills to soothe fears that accompany unrestricted feelings of a loss of firm holding. Sometimes I let myself destroy myself so I can arise, reborn from the ashes.
Sometimes I don’t know if things are going according to plan.
Nina looks at my concerned, her usual smile leaving her old, happy weathered face for a moment as she examines the out-skirts of my face, it seems I have betrayed myself.
She them smiles, warmly reaches out and grabs my hand, squeezes and then tells me it is time we had a talk. I look at her oddly, with a thousand questions in my eyes. She suggests a walk.
Her much over-used body stands up, bent with age and abuse (from non but her), seems to quiver a bit and proceeds to lead me out the door; my mother left contemplating in our tracks.

Fire.

oh fire and fuel how I am entangled in thee.
I shouldn't
but I still do.
I've learned it is best not to feed this
and still I do.

update

contemplating posting the story now that it has reached 40 pages in length, i think the past is not so small now to be as repeatable or for me to be as obsessed in its making.
I want to post my story, although I know if I were to argue it with myself I'd find again where I stood to be as valid. Although in not posting I begin to hold onto the past in a different light.


I'm really brain dead right now.

oi oi.

I think too abstractly about things that matter.

These, these are thoughts.

When does home stop feeling like home?
When does who I was stop being who I am?
I think back to a year ago, and I feel as if someone has replaced the old me.
I am obsessed with change.
I might be getting over my panic attacks, but still occasionally they come seeking retribution for the careless actions I take in regards to myself.
I am withering and dying and a new creature is taking its place.
I sound like everyone else.
It has taken some time for me to be able to admit that I am not special, that I am not unique, that my condition is human. It gives me strength and it makes me weak.

Why is it that the most inconsequential actions tend to lead to the biggest repercussions? A planned life is not a life I rejoice in living, but it is necessary for controlled progress?
Is a need for control what makes us human?
I think it just comes with the territory.

Once again I feel as if I am regressing, but I am progressing all the time while also being stagnant. Although being stagnant entails both, as does regressing, as does progressing. Atleast in my definition of the word.

And still I move along with the world.

I agree with so many statements while also disagreeing with them and keeping up with myself is beginning to get a little maddening. I feel as if this would perhaps serve to explain quite a few things about me and about the world, but I do not feel as if I could justly explore them all without changing them, confusing them and destroying at least a part of them.

oi.

I'm such a nihilist (by Nietzsche's definition)
Rather infuriating sometimes.

Heartless

My parents are such idiotic wastes of human life some times. My cat has taken to peeing on things(i know its gross, but there is a point to this) and when she gets locked in rooms it becomes more frequent.
Easy solution right?
Don't close the doors with the cat trapped inside.
Apparently this is too difficult for my parents to grasp and so they decide that instead of dealing with the problem, they should give up on the cat.
Why is it easier to give up something then to expel a little more energy and end the problem.
Either they don't appreciate animals at all besides for their own gain(I use you until you require too much energy or thought for me to be satisfied with) or they only keep the animals around for my benefit and as soon as I complain they become disposable. Which is kind of like the first in some way.
Maybe I'm not seeing another option in my frustration.
I love my cat and although she becomes a hassel when she requires more attention then previously so, I refuse to give up on her so easily.
Maybe its just a vegetarian thing.

News Update! (cut, copied and pasted

I might not be moving. I am both pleased and a little upset by this news. (I should have predicted it, my parents are so up and down in their decisions--this is probably where I get it from)

I wrote a lot on friday, it almost turned into a story, but I don't know if I want to continue it or not. For one the effort and the disadvantageous points of committing to something I'm not completely positive is worth it really do play in to a decision of not doing so. Even though I'm almost tempted to not, I think I might anyway; the process of writing what was expressed ended up being a very positive thing.
I made a pact with myself not to re-read any of it, ever, so I don't think many people are going to be able to read it, otherwise I would post it. Not sure why I did it, well not completely sure, probably because I don't want to live as my past self. (It would seem "What the Bleep Do We Know" made a very large impression on me-look it up if you don't know what it is, its worth your time)

The past and the present are a very confusing pair of ideas and I'm lost in their supposed truths at the moment.

The more I think about balance the more it applied to everything, but my recent gained acceptance of the inability of experience to fully guarantee sound basis in generalizations prevent me from applying it into everything.

Sometime I feel as though all I am is a collage of prior thoughts stolen from someone else. Cut, copied and pasted.
Now I don't think this is fully true, but there are some points inarguable in this present state.

Explanations are so necessary and this fact is not so enjoyable, but I think I can learn to accept. Except for the fact that perhaps the founding thought may morph into something else tomorrow.

Forgive me of my abstract, seemingly ill-based thoughts, but I feel no need to control them(too much).
-> -> no explanation

I have found myself to contain more strength then I guessed I do, but still more weakness all the same. (weird phrasing)
->-> No explanation

Experience

Have I become a part of my experiences or have they become a part of me?
both?

Eradication?

This smell sticks to me and haunts the once planned out thoughts meant to meet something. They never really were allowed their debut, perhaps that is why they continue to trail behind me and occasionally catch up with my waking mind.
There is no hope for the memories that neither fade nor come to present and I am left to their mercy, despite the fact I have been informed that I am in charge of my emotions.
This addiction is so like the fundamental base which bore it all.
As I continue to dream, space begins to lose its permanence, its constant state of open.
But that is not true.
These rhythms continuously march on beat after beat, bouncing along in some predictable pattern.
Must eradication ensue?

Apprehension

When signing devon's drumhead i wrote something about how she was awesome and how I was going to miss her a lot. Upon spelling her name wrong, i attempted to make it better by making the top of the i into a part of a heart, but it just looked like some kid took a sharpy and tried to draw a circle. I then drew a line leading to the mistake and pointed out that it was supposed to be a heart, just so she would know that indeed a massive fuck up did happen on her drumhead and no I was not ashamed of it.
I contemplated crossing the whole thing out and writing "make every moment count"
Not sure why I didn't.

Thinking back i don't think i would change a single thing I have done so far this year, or in the past. Sure, at times things feel a little depressingly monotonous and doomed to end in misery, but normally things just straighten out, or become lovable. Normally one of the two.

God I sound so cliche.

I am content.

Ohohoh,
so I saw evan on friday. Something has changed in him, I'm not sure if its the way I see things now or if he actually has changed, but the feeling around him is different now. I think I'm too awkward for him to stand at this point, its not like I don't want to start an interesting question with him, it just seems forbidden now. i miss the days when he used to come over every weekend and sleep over and we would end up getting into rediculously violent play fights, talking about our feelings and drinking tea. I knew it wouldn't last long when it happened. He always was one to come and go in my life, its not a surprise I don't even know him anymore. Its just odd, thinking of what I used to feel for him, all I can sense in regards to him is a twang of memory with perhaps a pinch of regret.
But hey, friends come and go; I shouldn't hold it against him that he so easily fell away.


I don't know if I'm ready for the change my life is about to undergo, but life never really seems to look at us for the go sign before uprooting all we know, so what is there to feel but a rejoicing in the fact that life is?